The Angel from my Nightmares
by dancingonthesunnyside
Summary: After a day in the bakery Peeta comes home to find a sleeping Katniss in his living room and he finally understands what it all means. A fairly short fic, but too long to be a drabble.


The dust kicks up around my boots as I walk home from the bakery. I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I round the last corner before the Victor's Village. It was a long day in the bakery, my apprentice called in sick so I was there painfully early and the sun was about to set on my walk home. I'd scrubbed as much of the flour from me as I could but my apron had done little to save my clothes.

I look at the sign that declares this the Victor's Village. It's pristine as it ever was, swinging ever so slightly the dry, hot wind. The Village continues to be the only building that survived the fire bombing that destroyed 12 and though the rest of the District is finally starting to move beyond recovery, it sticks out like a sore thumb in amongst the other buildings.

I walk past the overgrown bush that is Haymitch's front yard before arriving at the gate to my own house. It may as well be Katniss's house as well, she spends most nights here, and most of the day too. She's still got her house, but the well-maintained outside is a cover for the ever-increasing layer of dust that coats most of the rooms.

I walk up the front path before pulling my keys out of my pocket to unlock the door. The door creaks ever so slightly as it opens and I walk in, unlacing my boots and placing them next to the door. The house is silent. Normally there's the smell of Katniss attempting to cook or a slight hum from the radio to signal she's here, but today it's silent.

The rational part of me knows that the small panic in my chest is unnecessary. She might be hunting. Or at Haymitch's. Or in _her _house. I walk into the kitchen, my prosthetic leg making significantly less noise than it used to, but still significantly more than Katniss ever does. I get a glass of water and then head for the lounge room.

And there she is. Asleep on the couch, arm hanging off the edge with her fingers brushing the floor. Her hair is spread all over the pillow she's leant her head on. A half open book lays forgotten just inches away from the couch, it's pages bent slightly from the fall. Her chest rising and falling in a steady pattern, the tiniest hint of a snore escapes her every now and again. And she's beautiful.

I place my glass down on the coffee table as quietly as I can and reach down to pick the book up. I chuckle silently as I fully notice the position she's in on the couch. She's somehow managed to fall asleep tangled up in the four pillows on the two-seater couch, one leg thrown over the arm rest, the other tucked into the remaining space.

I take a seat in the armchair closest to her head, turning the book over in my hands and reading the blurb. I hear Katniss shuffle and I look up at her. She's still asleep, a small smile gracing her lips. It's a nice change from how she normally looks when she's asleep. Time has passed since the rebellion but nightmares still plague us both so any amount of undisturbed sleep is a miracle.

Her hand quivers against the floorboards, and she shuffles again. I know from plenty of mornings watching her wake after one of my own nightmares that she'll be stirring soon. I take a moment to mentally photograph this moment, a moment of silence and peace, before she wakes up.

I realize that this is what I want. I realize what the panic meant. I finally understand what I've been trying to push from my mind since the first Games. I knew I loved her, but part of me worried that I was in love with the idea of her. The idea of a hungry girl that I could save with a loaf of burnt bread. But here she is, Katniss Everdeen, asleep on my couch. And I'm in love with her. The girl from my nightmares. The girl that every damn force in the universe tried to pull me away from. The girl I spent months thinking was trying to kill me. Sometimes I still think she _is_ trying to kill me. I'm in love with her. This beautiful, stubborn, and wonderful girl. Katniss.

Soon enough, her eyes open. Slowly at first, but then they start to take in the room. Then she notices me.

"Hey," she croaks.

"Hi there sleepyhead. No nightmares?"

"No nightmares," she confirms, "when did you get back?"

"Not long ago. I didn't want to wake you though."

"Thanks," is all she says before disentangling herself from the mountain of pillows she buried herself under.

"Dinner?" she asks.

"That'd be great," I reply, watching as she stands up and walks to the kitchen.

"Hey, Katniss?" She stops.

"Yes?"

"Did you," I pause, "did you want to maybe move in here permanently?"

She looks back at me from the doorframe. Apparently she wasn't expecting that question.

"I practically do anyway Peeta."

"I know, but, you know, officially."

"Oh. Yeah. Officially."

She smiles before continuing to the kitchen. I smile at where she was standing. Officially. I liked that.

Officially.

I pushed myself up and followed her into the kitchen. Our kitchen. The kitchen in _our _home.


End file.
